Notorious
by KBtheMD
Summary: "Secrets-that's what got her into this position in the first place. First Roy's secret that became Castle's burden, and then Kate's own- the one that had kept her awake so many nights thinking of him- how he might feel against her, how he would smell and taste." A different take on the dangers Castle & Beckett face as they hunt her mother's killer & repair their relationship. AU S4
1. Prologue

**_Prologue- It Always Ends Like This_**

The darkness is almost bearable now, her world reduced to the subtle contrast of blacks and grays like those classic movies her mother had always loved. Muted sunlight edges past a slit in the curtains and casts a line that traipses slowly along the wall, its journey the only marker of time.

How long has she been here? A few hours, maybe a day?

The murky recesses of Kate's mind can no longer keep track. All of what little energy she has left is wasted in the tremors that rake through her body as it reacts to the noxious substance pumping through her veins. She tries to focus on the light as it offers up a sliver of color, a brilliant gold reflected from the brass handle of an antique wooden night stand next to the bed. Her eyes struggle to focus and the shape of a lamp comes at her in double. She doesn't even bother trying to turn it on. She knows it doesn't work; the bulb has been removed.

He means to keep his prisoner in darkness.

She tries to swallow, but her tongue is thick against the roof of her mouth so she coughs weakly instead, her stomach echoing the sound with a growl. She can't recall the last time she had anything to eat, but she's certain that he at least brings her water because the sheets are damp with sweat. Without the strength to hold up her hand let alone lift a glass, she knows he must come to her, knows he must trickle the liquid past her parched lips and over the cobblestones of her throat. She's fairly certain that the water is laced with whatever poison has turned her into this quivering mess, but she's so thirsty, she accepts it anyway.

Kate tries to survey her surroundings, but she can't see much beyond the foot of the bed frame. Despite the plush bedding, she's never been so uncomfortable in her life, and with each turn of her body against the pillow-top mattress, the sheets wrap more tightly, enveloping her like a mummy's shroud. She can't get over how incredibly _hot_ she feels. She never expected dying could be this warm, after all, she _knows_ death. She's _experienced_ it. She remembers the cool burn as the bullet had buried itself in her chest- an icy dark veil suddenly covering her, curling swiftly as it squeezed soul from flesh.

But this time it's different. It's a stifling, drawn-out affair. She'd choose a bullet any day.

Her biceps tremble uncontrollably as she pushes up on her hands, trying to turn against the constraints of the bedding, but she's just too weak. As she slumps back against the pillow, blood rushes to her head with a jolt that slices through her temples. The ensuing pounding in her skull thrums through her bones down into her spinal column. It finally disperses into her ribs, and for a moment, the sensation threatens to overtake the beats of her heart as white pain dots her field of vision.

God, she would kill for a couple of aspirin and some ice water. And a cool shower, or even better, a bath.

Her thoughts are tangential at this point, tied together by a thin stream of logic as her mind seeks comfort in pleasant visions of her treasured baths. She breathes slowly, sinking deeper into her memories as she tries to escape the hold this harsh reality has on her. The earthy tones of wine intertwine with delicate floral hues to tickle her nostrils, and she whimpers as the bunched muscles in her back slacken every so slightly. Tepid water soothes while bubbles cling to her skin, lifting her until she feels almost weightless. Her fingers stretch out and a familiar crispness replaces the sticky cotton sheet.

Paper? No, _pages_.

She opens her eyes then and starts to make out some words. The bold font is neat and orderly, so reassuring to her eyes. A book. _His_ book.

_Castle_.

And just like that the bubbles and wine vanish and her fingers flex, slicing right through the pages. She is back on the bed and Richard Castle is suddenly before her. She can't quite make out his face, but her eyes know the shape of his body well. As he walks towards her, the shadows that cloak his face morph into rough features- the strong muscles of his neck and jaw, the slant of his nose, the line of his lips that curls knowingly- like he's keeping a secret, hoping to surprise her.

_Secrets_.

She exhales slowly in frustration. Secrets- that's what got her into this position in the first place. First Montgomery's secret that then became Castle's burden, and then Kate's own. The one that had kept her awake so many nights thinking of him and how he might feel against her, inside of her- how he would smell and taste. The secret feelings that made her stomach flip each time his fingers brushed innocently against hers with the ritual giving of her morning coffee.

He had tried to keep his true feelings from her as well, but she had known the truth even before he said the words to her as she lay bleeding out in the cemetery on that crisp May morning. And even if he hasn't said them to her since, she knows his feelings haven't changed. She had seen it every time he looked at her during the last few weeks as they worked tirelessly to piece together the clues leading to her mother's killer.

She remembers saying goodbye to him before coming to this place. His lips had said simply: "Be safe, Beckett." But those expressive blue eyes had echoed a different three words, his gaze penetrating her façade to find the embers of her heart softly aglow in the darkness of her misgivings: _I love you_.

This love is the only reason he'd stood by her despite all of the hurt and danger- and it's the only reason she'd let him.

The room is suddenly spinning and out of focus again and she grabs at the edge of the mattress trying to stay grounded. She knows she should have told him, should have said the words when she had the chance. Her stomach twists in disgust at her own cowardice. God, she's screwed up royally this time.

Her eyes search the shadows- the figure is still there but it's hazy, fading in and out against the darkness. She tries to call out, opening her mouth to speak.

_Castle_.

She feels his name tingle against her lips, but no sound follows and her breath quickly settles back into her chest triggering another coughing spell. Yet even without calling him, he comes nearer. Somehow he still hears her, knows what she needs, just like he always has through the years.

His features twist in concern as he peers down and then a hand lifts towards her, almost comes to lay on her cheek. She shudders, swears she can feel the air expanding, electric in the shared heat between their skin. She waits for his touch, needs it so desperately, but she knows it will never come.

They've been here before. It's the same scene she has relived again and again in her state of delirium. Still, she hopes that maybe if she can manage a word or a touch, that it will be real, that _he_ will be real this time.

And he's so very close now, closer than he's ever been before. She just wishes her body would cooperate. She needs to explain, she needs to tell him what he means to her, that she hasn't stopped caring. But instead she just sinks further into the mattress as he watches her. A feeble breath enters her lungs and she fears she can't endure this torture much longer. She closes her eyes, breathes in again and imagines the last time she saw him, the _real_ him.

He had been in a tuxedo, smelling of his expensive aftershave and a splash of scotch from the evening's festivities. Her body shivers at the phantom touch of his broad hands holding the curve of her waist, skirting the bareness of her back as they had moved to the music. She envisions him whispering into her ear, lips falling to her shoulder, then rising to sweep her brow, her cheek, the corners of her mouth- there and there.

But of course he's not really touching her. She opens her eyes and stares back at this carbon-copy of him as he observes her in silence. Her mind has almost compensated for the details now- the small scar on his forehead, the tug of muscle at his lips as he smiles, the almost imperceptible flicker of lashes as his eyelids slide shut.

The disappointment rises in her chest as his face hovers over hers, his eyes opening slowly as she sees what she already knows will be.

_Gray_.

These eyes are the deepest of grays, like a fog clinging to dusk, only the faintest glow of light escaping them. Still, they are captivating, and she feels herself quickly being engulfed by their calm depths.

For a moment she thinks she could be happy with this version of him. She could forget all this hell, the emotions, just let it all go and lose herself, give in to the gray. But her feeling of peace lasts no longer than a single beat of her racing heart. She recalls the man she trusts with her life, the man whose eyes are endless swirls of blue, full of boundless energy like the stormy sea on a summer's day. Yes, he is the man she wants to _find_ herself with.

And this man is not him, not her Castle. The shadows have toyed with her mind once again. She wants to yell or sob or both, but all she can do is lay perfectly still as the eyes blink once and then dissolve into the nothing that surrounds her.

She would be relieved, but she knows he'll be back- those gray eyes haunting her. Yes, they'll be back.

It always ends like this.

* * *

So yea- it's been a while.

This story is inspired by the great Hitchcock thriller of the same name starring Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman, and Claude Rains. I've been toying with the idea of for a while and finally am getting the courage to start posting it. We'll see how it goes- I'm feeling a bit rusty.

Hope you enjoy.

-KB


	2. Chapter 1

_____4 weeks earlier ~ September, 2011_

Castle's finger picked nervously at a chip in the lacquered finish of his desk, his eyes flicking nervously to the face sitting in the chair opposite him.

"So..." he prompted.

Her blue eyes remained focused intently on the page, oblivious to his fidgeting- well, mostly oblivious.

"Shh!" she chastised, holding up a hand to keep him quiet. "I'm almost done. Patience."

Castle spun his office chair 180 degrees in frustration, nearly knocking over the two week-high pile of mail jutting out from the edge. He stopped his momentum just as Alexis turned the last page of the book, her eyes bearing the slightest sheen of tears.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. He hated that he always felt this insecure when his first "review" came in, but this was now a sort of ritual he and Alexis shared. It had been since she turned 13 and he deemed it acceptable for her to give the initial assessments of his works. He had nearly regretted it that first time around- she had been brutal. She was almost as critical of his books as he was- almost.

She half-sniffed and rose from the armchair, clutching the hardback to her chest as she came to stand next to the desk. She let out a non-committal breath before her eyes finally met his insistent gaze.

"It was good, Dad. _Really, really _good. Probably the best of the _Heat_ series so far." She paused as her father's face broke into a relieved and then satisfied, bordering on smug smile. "_Buu-ut_..."

"_But what_?" Castle questioned, face falling a little.

Alexis crinkled her nose and diverted her eyes. "It's just, the ending-" Alexis paused and stole a glance at her father, carefully mulling over the words she was about to say.

"Well? What's wrong with the ending?"

He swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotion from seeping into his voice, trying to push back the pain gnawing at the top of his gut, the same pain he had relived over and over as he'd poured his heart into those last few chapters of _Heat Rises_. He had written them in one very long all-nighter fueled by alternating glasses of coffee and whiskey, although towards the end it was more the waning fumes of adrenaline and frustration. He had sobered up the next day and done some major editing, several pages almost unreadable from the red strike-throughs, but the deep emotional trial of what he had gone through with Montgomery's death and then Beckett's shooting still haunted every page.

Alexis tilted her head offering her father a sympathetic smile. She knew the last few months had been difficult on him.

"Come on, Dad. You ended it with a _cliffhanger._"

He sat back in the chair, relieved that for now she wasn't mentioning the obvious, that he was leaving the book's finale up in the air because that's where his relationship with Beckett stood, completely in limbo.

"The readers _love_ cliffhangers," he said dismissively.

"Readers _hate_ them," she huffed in feigned irritation, setting the book on the corner of the desk and giving her father a quick hug from behind before swiveling his chair around to face her. "Especially me."

"Nonsense. Readers love them, or rather, they love to _hate_ them," Castle quipped, accepting the kiss she brushed against his unshaven cheek and feeling satisfied that if Alexis was frustrated, he'd done his job. "Besides, it wasn't a _real _cliffhanger. We all know that Rook won't really die. If Rook died there'd be no more story, no more sexual tension, and no more _books_. I wouldn't just kill off a main character like that. That would be stupid," he scoffed.

Alexis crossed her arms against her chest, shaking her head in disbelief at her father's apparent loss of memory. "Umm, hello? Are you having a senior moment or something? Does the name 'Derrick Storm' mean anything to you?"

Castle pursed his lips in defeat. "Touché." He stood and walked around to the other side of the desk, grabbing his daughter's hand and leading her towards the kitchen.

"Well, what do you say we celebrate by having some ice cream? I just bought that new flavor you wanted to try, 'Raspberry Fudge Cake'. I even got some fresh berries to go on top."

"But we haven't even had dinner yet."

"And when has that ever stopped us?" he winked, heading towards the refrigerator.

She studied her father as he began heaping ice cream into two bowls, chattering on about the book release party that was coming up in a few weeks, then switching topics to the new show playing at the Hayden Planetarium, asking whether she had seen it yet. Alexis had to admit, he had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding the emotional white elephant that had followed him around all summer. Everyone was well aware that Beckett hadn't spoken to him since he had visited her in the hospital the day after the sniper shooting. He had kept to himself more than usual since then, filling his days with mundane tasks around the loft such as reorganizing the kitchen and cleaning out his closet not once, but _twice_. He had also been busy completing the final revisions on _Heat Rises_ last month, using the editing process as an excuse to stay in the City while Alexis and her grandmother had gone on a mini-getaway to California to visit Meredith. Alexis knew it was an excuse because she had overheard her father talking with Esposito the night before she left for the airport. From what she'd managed to deduce from her amateur spying, word via the precinct grapevine had been that Detective Beckett was expected back the first week of September, and Alexis knew her father would want to be in town for her return. But that had been almost three weeks ago- it was already the 18th, and still no word from his muse.

"Here you go, pumpkin. I scooped out the extra fudgy parts and put them in your bowl."

"Thanks, Dad." Alexis smiled appreciatively, licking the first gooey bite from her spoon and considering whether she was going to press him anymore about the ending of the book. While she realized that writing was her father's livelihood, often consuming him for weeks at a time, Alexis also knew that it doubled as his own sort of self-therapy. But even after all these years, she still didn't think it was healthy for him to sort through his emotions exclusively through his characters. He needed to _talk_ about it with someone, and while Alexis didn't particularly relish the thought of discussing her father's relationship issues, she felt someone had to.

She mustered up her courage and faced him squarely. "Dad? Can we talk like two adults?"

Castle eyed his daughter suspiciously. "_Adults_? Hmm, I'm pretty sure _you_ are more than capable, but _me_? Well, honey, I think we both know that's up for debate in most circles-"

"I'm not joking, Dad. Ever since you stopped working at the precinct, you've been so serious, _too _serious. It worries me."

"See, now I thought that was a _good_ thing. Usually you're _begging _for me to act more maturely," he laughed half-heartedly. He knew where his clever daughter was steering this conversation- dead ahead into Kate Beckett.

"It's just, you haven't had any _fun_ lately. All you do anymore is write and work on Detective Beckett's case." There. She had said her name. Alexis checked her father's expression for any trace of emotion, but he was all poker-face at the moment. "I mean, you really haven't left the loft all summer."

"Now that's not true! I took those boxes down to the recycling bins yesterday _and_ I went round the block to Carmelo's for the ice cream just this morning." He hefted a large spoonful into his mouth for emphasis.

Alexis shot him a non-plussed look at his smart-assed rebuttal, her eyes demanding a better answer.

Castle shrugged, relenting. She did have a point, but he really didn't feel like drudging up his issues with Beckett at the moment. "I had a deadline. You know how Gina gets when I'm late with my manuscripts." Not a lie. Gina was in fact a tyrant and Alexis couldn't argue with that. He stirred the melting ice cream in his bowl, hoping to avoid any further discussion, watching as the crimson berry and chocolate chunks bled against the white chocolate canvas to form a concoction resembling something Jackson Pollock might have eaten. But after a few seconds, he could still feel the piercing gaze of his daughter boring into his forehead and he knew that he wasn't going to get off the hook that easily. He swallowed hard, resting the spoon in the bowl. The velvety sweetness had suddenly lost its appeal.

"And the _boys_ needed me-"

_Even if Beckett didn__'__t._

"Dad, I think you should just admit what's bothering you, or more specifically _who_."

They had made their way to the living room and just settled on the couch when, lucky for Castle, his phone started to vibrate from where it lay on the coffee table. Alexis had to smile as her father practically dumped his half-empty bowl into the cushions as he scrambled to reach for the black rectangle skittering against the wood. He snatched up the phone, instantly recognizing the first six digits of the caller ID: "212-565-", an extension from the 12th. He hesitated, finger hovering over the silence button. He had promised Alexis they would celebrate his book tonight, just the two of them. But now, seeing that extension light up the screen, it meant it could be one of the boys calling about Beckett's case, or maybe, just maybe it was actually about _her_? His heart surged against his ribs, a caged bundle of bruised emotions struggling to be released. The words of the last conversation with his partner echoed in his thoughts.

_Castle, I__'__m really tired right now._

He remembered believing her- she truly had seemed exhausted as he listened to her voice drag across her lips. She had lost a lot of blood, been in surgery for hours. Recalling the pale shadows that cradled her eyes in that hospital room, she had seemed so fragile, nearly broken for maybe the first time that he could remember since meeting her. So he had believed her words, how could he not? He had believed that she didn't remember the events of the shooting, that it was all a void, his confession of love blotted from her memory with the swift squeeze of a sniper's finger on the trigger.

_Of course, of course. We__'__ll talk tomorrow._

He had tried so hard to be understanding, even though at the time, waiting even one day to see her again seemed like an eternity. If he had known then how long it would actually be, he would have embraced her as he so desperately had wanted to, so he could remember her warm and alive, remember how perfect she felt in his arms. But she had pushed him away, just as she always did when he got too close.

_Do you mind if we don__'__t? I just need a little bit of time._

Time? Wasn't a near-death experience supposed to usher a sense of urgency into your heart? Didn't death give you a newfound appreciation for life, for all that you cherish and hold dear? How could she want _time_ when she had just been painfully reminded that time was not to be wasted? That's what _he_ had realized in the moments after she had been shot. That's why he had _finally_ verbalized his feelings. Why couldn't she be as earnest?

_Sure, sure. How much time?_

_I__'__ll call you, okay?_

He had nodded, smiled even, effectively sealing their agreement. He couldn't push her then, not in her condition. It would have been selfish.

"Dad?" Alexis touched his hand lightly with her fingers, snapping him out of his daydream. "_Dad_? You gonna answer that?"

"Uh, yea. Sorry." He banished the last image he had of her- eyes cast away from him as she lay quietly in the hospital bed- and swiped the screen to receive the call. Damn Kate Beckett and her infernal walls.

"Castle," he said dully, his thoughts still lingering in that hospital room.

"Yo, Castle! It's Javi."

"And Ryan!"

Their voices sounded a bit distant and echoed slightly. Apparently he was on speaker phone in the precinct conference room.

"Oh hey, guys. Hold on just a sec." Castle turned, shooting an apologetic smile towards Alexis and covering the phone's microphone as he mouthed "five-minutes-I-promise" before walking to his office. He closed the door behind him, but not before glimpsing an exasperated look on his daughter's face. He knew that after the long summer she was probably used to his secretive talks on the phone with the detectives, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

"Okay, sorry, guys, keep going. Whatcha got?"

"Glad we caught you, man," Esposito's booming voice filled his ear. "You are _totally_ gonna wanna hear this."

"Oh yea? What is it? Did something with the bank accounts finally pan out?"

Castle's morose mood quickly dissipated as he waited to hear what information Esposito and Ryan might have uncovered. All three men had poured over hundreds of pages of documents in the last few months trying to trace a money trail from McAllister, Raglan, and Montgomery back to the Dragon, but nothing had popped so far. He had given Esposito some of the more promising bank account numbers to pass along to Ryan for him to run through the federal database just yesterday. He hadn't expected to hear back so soon.

"Unfortunately, no. _Nada_ on the ones you gave us, bro. Ryan says those accounts were all too old, not in the system."

"Dammit! That was our last lead." Castle instantly felt deflated. They had worked so hard, he especially, and now nothing. He hated to admit it, but without new information they were probably never going to get the bastard who had shot Beckett. It made his blood boil.

"I know, that's what I thought too, but _Ryan_ here decided to do a little more digging."

"Yep." Ryan's voice was the louder one now.

"And I didn't have to dig too far. Found some old retirement papers misplaced in those case files from the Captain's office, _except_-"

"Yes-" Castle urged him on.

"-they weren't all Montgomery's. There were two copies of old statements that belonged to Raglan and McAllister. So I thought, 'why would Montgomery have copies'? I decide to take a closer look and see that both men's statements include a fund labeled "United Hearts" that's been highlighted, I presume by Montgomery, and these funds listed the exact same amount for the initial deposit- 50K. That's _a lot_ of dough and for it to be the _exact_ same amount deposited on the _same_ day- what a coincidence, huh?"

"No way," Castle whispered under his breath.

"Right, and regardless, I figured if the Captain seemed so interested in this fund, then _I__'__m_ definitely interested. So I Googled "United Hearts," not much out there, but looks like it was some kind of 'wounded warriors' thing, started up about 20 years ago for the NYPD to help take care of cops injured in the line of duty. It was mostly funded by the state using money that's confiscated from local drug busts.

Castle shook his head, he wasn't sure where this was going. "So?"

"_So, _there's no report of Raglan or McAllister ever being injured. They were both perfectly healthy during their entire time on the force, yet they _still_ got a disbursement from that fund."

Ryan paused to catch his breath and also to give Castle a chance to process what he was saying. But the writer was right there with him now, the wheels in his brain switching to high gear.

"Son-of-a-bitch. So maybe whoever was behind all of this channeled money to them through that fund? But _why_? I thought McAllister and Raglan were forced to hand over part of their mobster ransoms to the Dragon after he got wind of the kidnappings?"

Esposito fielded this one. "I dunno, bro. Maybe they arranged some sort of deal or they stumbled upon some information that the Dragon didn't want to get out, so he paid them off. We haven't really had time to look into the fund in any more detail except for what Ryan just told you."

"So, what are we waiting for?! First thing- we have to find out more about who managed United Hearts, who could have authorized those deposits-" Castle couldn't contain his excitement any longer, pounding his fist on the desk triumphantly. The vibration caused the precariously stacked mail on the corner to go careening onto the floor with a crash, a landslide of coupons and high-end home furnishing catalogs now littering the floor.

The detectives heard the ruckus on the other side of the phone and Esposito couldn't help but chuckle. "Whoa there, partner. _First_ thing we need to do is keep our heads on straight before we go cowboying around. We have to be damn careful who we talk to."

"Okay, okay. But this could be it, guys. We could finally bring the Dragon to justice." Castle took a deep breath, trying to level his thoughts. "Oh and hey, Ryan?"

"Yea?"

"Nice detecting job, my friend. And even nicer job showing Esposito up with your skills. He's making you look bad, dude," Castle poked.

"Hey!" Esposito replied, feigning offense.

Ryan laughed into the microphone. "Ha! That's exactly what Beckett said!"

He could hear the smile projecting into Ryan's voice, and for a second, Castle almost smiled back. Instead his face fell, slumping back into his office chair.

_Beckett_? They had talked to _Beckett_? He exhaled flatly into the phone, hearing the unmistakable smacking sound of Esposito's hand meeting the back of Ryan's head.

"Ow! What the hell, Javi! What was that for?"

A muffled 'stupid' followed by some unintelligible words followed. Apparently Esposito was reprimanding Ryan for spilling the beans about her return.

Castle shook his head, still a bit shocked. "Hey, guys, guys. Stop. It's fine, _I'm_ fine." He chewed on the news for a few moments, not quite knowing how to react. He felt mostly deflated, numb. Of course there was still the part of him that cared for her and couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness too. If she was back at the precinct then she must be doing fairly well, she must be healed. But the flip side was, if she was back that also meant she had chosen not to get in touch with _him_, her partner. He continued to try and save face in front of the boys.

"And that's, uh, that's good. _Great_ news. She's already back in the saddle working cases then?" Castle tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but it was hard to smother the undercurrent of disappointment that burned in his throat. He hated how it made his voice sound more uneven than he intended.

Castle's change in tone wasn't lost on Esposito. The detective spoke carefully to his friend. "No, she's back in _town_, but she's not working cases yet. She was just stopping by to get a few things from her desk. Ryan had just discovered the info on this fund, so we went ahead and filled her in." He waited a few seconds for Castle to reply, but when he didn't, Esposito figured he might as well attack the issue head on.

"You know, dude, I think she only just got back to the City last week. I'm sure she's planning on calling you."

_Last week_? She'd been in town for that long? This intel pushed him over the edge. He was tired of holding it all in.

"Uh-huh, _sure_ she will. Just like she said she would. _Three-and-a-half-months-ago_," Castle emphasized sarcastically. He knew he was acting a bit childishly, but he didn't care. He also knew he could call _her_, but that wasn't the point. The point was, she had already made it clear long ago that friendship was as far as it went between them, and maybe he could live with _that_ fact, but that she didn't seem to need his _friendship_, his _support _any longer, that was too much to bear.

Then again, why _would_ she reach out to him? She had Josh, a fact that made him nauseous. He had tried to rationalize it over the summer, tried to make it hurt less. Josh was a doctor. Maybe it had been easier for her to share all the physical and medical aspects of her ordeal over the last few months with a physician rather than a lay person. Maybe Josh was more helpful with all the medications, the therapies, or whatever else she might need.

But no matter how he diced it, Castle simply couldn't believe that Dr. Motorcycle Boy, a brainiac surgeon who spent twelve-plus hours a day hunched over anesthetized bodies, would ever be a great comfort to her. After all, he had met the guy several times and he screamed negligible social skills. And _sure_, he helped save her life, stopped the bleeding from her wounds, for which Castle would always be grateful, but he also felt certain that Josh would _never_ be able to help her come to terms with the unseen injuries that such a trauma inflicted. Castle wasn't naive; he wasn't sure he would be able to help Beckett any better than Josh could, but he would have at least appreciated the chance. Now with the news that she had been in town for days if not longer, apparently she wasn't going to allow him even that.

"Castle? You still there?" Ryan broke the silence timidly.

"Yea. I'm here, it's just- whatever. I guess it is what it is. Look, I should probably go. I'm supposed to be hanging out with Alexis tonight," he answered shortly. "I'll get back with you tomorrow about the rest of this and where we go from here."

The door to his office flung open at that instant and Alexis stood in the threshold, purse on her shoulder, jacket in hand. Clearly she had been listening on the other side of the door.

"Don't worry about me, I'm going to meet Paige for a late movie. I'll probably just stay over at her place tonight," she informed him, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jean jacket.

"Alexis, no, wait. You don't have to- guys, I'll call you later." He hung up the phone and walked over to where his daughter stood.

"It's fine, Dad. Really. We'll hang out tomorrow." She kissed his cheek stiffly.

Great, now his daughter was upset with him. Could the night get any worse?

"Alexis, I'm sorry I've been such a drag lately. It's just…"

"I know, Dad. Even if you don't want to talk to me about it- _I know_. I'm not blind. You care about her and she's hurt you," the red-head stated matter-of-factly. "And I love you, Dad. I'm on your side. So you probably won't like what I'm about to say." Alexis paused, taking a deep breath, forcing the words out before she could overthink it. "I think you should cut Detective Beckett some slack."

Castle furrowed his brow in disbelief, subconsciously taking a step back- where was _this_ coming from?

"But, Alexis, she hasn't even tried to get in touch…"

Alexis shook her head dismissively, cutting him off. "Dad, she had been _shot_, she almost _bled_ to death. We can't know what it's like after something like that."

Castle felt his eyes starting to burn as he remembered how warm her blood had been against his hands. It had soaked straight through her dress uniform, quickly staining the surrounding grass in a dark exodus of life returning to the earth.

Alexis squeezed his hand softly. "All I'm saying is that she's had some pretty heavy stuff to deal with."

"But that's the _point_, Alexis. I'm her _friend, _her _partner_ for the last three years. We've been through so much together. I wanted to be there for her and she wouldn't even let me try. What does that say about us- about our friendship?" He dropped her hand to turn away and brush at the tears that threatened to spill out.

Alexis pondered this for a moment, answering thoughtfully. "I don't know, Dad. I guess we all just deal with this sort of thing in our own way, you know?" She circled around to face her father again, forcing some eye contact. "Remember in 9th grade, my friend Cassie's father who died of leukemia?"

Castle nodded. He remembered it well. It had been Alexis's first real experience with the death of someone she knew.

"Cassie didn't talk to any of us for _weeks_. I was one of her _best_ _friends. _I called and left messages almost _everyday_. And then the other girls and I organized that school blood drive in her father's name, and Cassie told the school counselor she would come, but then she didn't show up, and we found out later she had gone to some concert with a girl from another school who she wasn't really even friends with instead. I was so hurt. And _mad_."

"Yea, I remember. You came home so upset. You told me she was being selfish and ungrateful after everything you had done. And then you promptly burst into tears because you realized how awful that sounded because she had just lost her father."

"Uh-huh. But then a few days later Cassie finally called me, apologizing for not coming to the blood drive or talking to me for so long. She told me that she just couldn't face anything that reminded her of the hospital. Said her dad had gotten so many transfusions during his treatment, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it."

Castle finally smiled a bit. How someone that he helped shape could be so wise and wonderful would always amaze him.

Alexis took her father's hand again. "So all I'm saying is, if she's not ready, she's not ready. You can be upset with her if you want, you have every right to be. Just don't be so mad that you forget to listen to her when she finally lets you, and I know she will eventually, Dad. And also, when the time comes, you'll have to find a way to forgive her. She means too much to you." She paused a beat for effect. "And because I'm sure she's forgiven you for all the _moronic_ things you've done over the years- I know I have." She punched his bicep playfully just as he wrapped her up in a hug.

"Thanks, Alexis." He sighed into the crown of her head.

Alexis's phone beeped in her pocket. "That's Paige. Let me just tell her that something's come up-" Alexis pulled her phone out and started to text her friend.

Castle stilled her fingers. "Nonsense. Go out with your friends. You've spent enough time with your old man tonight." He released Alexis from his arms, a genuine grin spreading across his face. He really did have a better daughter than he deserved.

"Okay, but I'll be back by noon tomorrow. Maybe we can grab brunch and catch that show at the planetarium tomorrow?" she offered as they walked to the front door.

"Sure. Sounds great, honey." He watched as she got on the elevator. "Text me later!" he shouted down the hall just as the doors slid shut.

Castle leaned back against the door, the silence of the loft suddenly heavy around him. His stomach growled loudly. He had planned on having ice cream as an "appetizer" and then he and Alexis were going to order take-out, so by now he was starving. After placing a delivery order for an Italian sausage, sweet pepper, and basil pizza, he padded into his office, having decided now would be as good a time as any to make some updates to his website. But he frowned as he rounded the corner to his desk- the mail from earlier was scattered everywhere. He thought about leaving it there, the housekeeper was due tomorrow afternoon, but he felt certain his mother would scold him for leaving such a mess for her to clean up. Besides, he needed to sort it anyway and so he began the boring task of sifting through it all.

Ninety percent of it was junk- folded coupon packs and pre-approved platinum credit card applications. He saved a couple of magazines and catalogs he knew Alexis or his mother would want, even taking time to doggy-ear some of the more interesting articles as he skimmed them. After almost an hour he had gotten through the worst of it, determining that the rest was destined for the shredder, but then he came across a large manila envelope buried at the bottom of the pile. It was hand addressed to "Mr. Richard Castle."

His interest was immediately peeked, mostly because he held a secret love of of old-fashioned snail mail- it called to the romantic in him. But the real thing that made his Spidey senses tingle was the neat, right-sloping cursive script that graced the front of the package; clearly the penman or woman was a lefty. The handwriting seemed oddly familiar, he felt he had seen it quite recently in fact, yet he couldn't quite place it. He glanced to the upper right corner of the package where the stamps or automated post-office label should have been to try and gauge when it had been sent, but to his surprise the corner was bare. No return address either.

"Huh," he huffed to the silent audience of the loft. So perhaps the sender had it hand-delivered? But he didn't recall signing for anything if a messenger had dropped it off. Maybe the sender had delivered it themselves, placing it directly in his mailbox? He made a mental note to ask Alexis and his mother if they had signed for anything recently and he'd try to ask the mailman more about it tomorrow. He reached for the letter opener atop the desk and had just wedged the point under the envelope's flap when he heard a firm knock on his front door.

_Pizza__!_ He glanced at his watch. "_Finally_. Thirty minutes my ass," he muttered to himself, grabbing his wallet from the entry table. His stomach rumbled reflexively at the thought of the savory goodness waiting for him on the other side. He opened the door not bothering to look up as he fished through his wallet for some smaller bills to give as a tip.

"Glad you found me! Thought you might have gotten lost or something-" He raised his head, his voice immediately sinking back into his chest.

"Lost? Hmm. Well, I guess in a way, you could say that." He gaped at the woman in front of him as a cautious smile spread across her face. "Hey, Castle."

Indeed, Kate Beckett was back- and at that moment she was standing in his doorway, looking lovelier than ever.

* * *

A/N: Next up, they talk.

Would love to hear your thoughts.

-KB


	3. Chapter 2

God, she was so gorgeous. Summer's sun had been kind, painting her hair with a subtle gold that fell gently around her cheeks. It was shorter too, the tips barely kissing her shoulders now, and her cheeks glowed with such energy and life, a stark contrast to the last time he had seen her. Kate's smile broadened as his eyes finally made contact with hers. She was clearly happy to see him and for a split second all the anguish she had brought upon him vanished, replaced with a pure joy to see her alive and well. But just as quickly the hurt resurfaced, darkening his face.

"Hey, Castle."

Kate nibbled on her lower lip, trying to gauge his reaction at her showing up unannounced after a summer of being _incommunicado_. If she had come to his doorstep like this four months ago, she felt certain he would have ushered her in with a warm smile, would have helped remove her jacket, allowing his fingers to linger briefly at her neckline before easing them across her shoulders and then down her upper arms as he was known to do. He would have offered her a glass of whatever he was drinking, cracked an innuendo-laden joke about her not being able to stay away from him, and she would have laughed a bit too loudly, trying to conceal the flush that crept up her neck and cheeks. But judging by the look on his face at this moment, Kate knew she would be lucky to get an invitation through the door, let alone be the recipient of any quips. The expression of surprise that was quickly morphing into anger pained her, making her want to sink into the carpeted floor beneath her feet. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and bracing herself for whatever battle was coming. She had to make this right.

"Castle, I-"

"What are you doing here, Beckett?" He shifted towards her, effectively blocking the doorway completely. He sounded so indifferent, disconnected somehow. Kate blinked in surprise, edging back as her eyes dipped to the floor. The iciness of his tone was more disturbing to her than if he'd outright yelled at her. At least then she would know he still wanted to fight for them.

She forced herself to look up. "Okay if I come in?" she asked softly.

The fact that their relationship had come to the point where she was having to ask him such a thing sliced viciously at Castle's heart. This was the woman he loved, or was it _had_ loved? He couldn't think at the moment with her standing there so exquisite and alive, peering up at him with such hopeful eyes. His gut swirled with indignation, but he needed to hear her side of things- they both deserved that much. His conversation with Alexis from earlier that evening echoed in his thoughts, calming him a bit. He relaxed his stance and took a step back, realizing he had practically forced her into the middle of the hallway. She took the opportunity to enter the loft before he changed his mind, turning to face him just as he closed the door.

"Castle, I know you're upset with me, but I want to explain-"

"Yea, about damn time," he huffed bitterly.

Kate pursed her lips, squeezing her eyes shut. He almost never addressed her in such a harsh tone, but at least he was displaying some sort of emotion, even if it was difficult to bear. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

"Castle, look, I know I said I'd get in touch, but I just, I haven't exactly been in a good place the last few months. I needed to think about work, my _life_-" She edged nearer, his face was still like stone, static and cold. "About _everything_."

He took a step towards her, the exasperation taking hold. "Fine. I get it. You needed your _time_. But I watched you _die_, Kate! I held you that day and I watched the lights go out. I washed your _blood-__" _ His voice broke, the weight of that day crashing back upon him. "I washed it from my _hands_."

Kate's eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenching as she too tried to combat the flash of memories from those seconds after the bullet bore into her chest. The shrieks of terror from Roy's friends and family gathered round the gravesite pierced her ears, as real now as they had been that day. She felt the hard jolt of the ground knocking the air from her chest as Castle had tackled her. And finally, the tear-blurred images of his face floating against a canopy of cloudless blue sky, hovering above her like some beautiful, breathing guardian angel.

_Kate, don't leave me, please. _

_Stay with me, okay? _

_Kate, I love you. _

She had replayed his words hundreds of times in the last few months as she battled through the emotional and physical fallouts of the shooting. Her journey had not been easy. Some days his voice had almost haunted her, reminding her of what she had effectively shoved to the back-burner like a coward, too afraid to deal with it all. But on her worst days, the days she wanted to just cry, give up, say to hell with all the physical therapy and counseling, on those days, his words had nurtured her spirit, given her something to fight for when nothing else seemed to matter.

_I love you, Kate._

Her eyes burst open, a startled gasp whooshing past her lips. Castle watched as she took several long, deep breaths, noticing for the first time how she seemed to be a bit on edge. She also appeared to have lost some weight, the hollows above her clavicles made even deeper as she sucked air back into her lungs. He continued to observe as her breathing finally evened out. Then again, maybe it was his imagination, her smaller physique simply an illusion created by her clothes- an oversized scoop-neck green sweater that clung loosely to her shoulders paired with black leggings and flats in place of her signature heels. She pulled her hair back from her face, gathering it at the base of her neck with her hand, finally gaining control of what appeared to be a small panic attack.

He studied her profile. He knew the sloping lines intimately after so many hundreds of stolen glances over the years seated beside her as they discussed cases. Yes, she was definitely thinner, the proud angles of her jaw and cheeks more prominent. She was putting up a strong front, but her expression was veiled in something, what was it, fear? No. Uncertainty, perhaps? From what he had just witnessed, Kate Beckett clearly wasn't one-hundred percent back to her old self physically _or _mentally, of that he was now sure. Seeing her in that moment, part of him wanted to wrap her in his arms, hold her close so that he could feel her heart and never let go, but, god how he _hurt_. He didn't want to fight with her, but he felt she needed to know what he'd been through too.

"I worried about you, Kate. I wanted to know how you were doing and it was just, well, torture almost. And it wasn't right, it wasn't fair to me, to _us_." He turned and walked into the living room, slumping into the couch, suddenly feeling drained of all emotion.

_Us. _The word twisted at Kate's insides. She knew they truly were an "us" of sorts. Friends, partners, and maybe they could be more, she _wanted _them to at least have the _chance_ at more, but she felt she was losing him or maybe he was already too far gone. But she needed him now more than ever, so she followed him into the living room, approaching the couch silently. She opted for the cushion just next to him, allowing herself to sink into the supple leather as she absorbed his silence.

_Honesty. _That's all she had going for her at this point.

"I'm so sorry. Tell me what I can do, Castle, but please, just _please_ don't shut me out like I did to you." She shifted to face him, hoping he would look at her. She wanted him to know how difficult the summer had been without him, how she hadn't forgotten him.

"Even if I didn't call, I thought about you, Castle. I did. How you must be hard at work on the book, scrambling to meet your deadlines. How your mother was probably driving you crazy for some reason or another. I also liked to think you found time to hang out with Alexis in the Hamptons." She paused, waiting for a response that didn't come, but at least he hadn't interrupted her, at least he was listening now. She pressed on.

"I walked down to the lake near my dad's cabin on the night of the Fourth- I wanted to see the stars. I remembered you telling me about all the fireworks they have in the Hamptons during the summer holidays, how grand it is. But you told me that your favorite part of the night comes _after_ the celebration. How you and Alexis take some towels, head down to the beach and just lay back on the sand and listen to the roar of the ocean for hours, marveling at how the stars fill the entire sky. Remember?"

Castle remained silent, perplexed by the direction the conversation had turned. Of course he remembered, but he felt overwhelmed by the fact that _she _would remember. He had recounted the stories of he and Alexis' star-gazing tradition while trying to entice Kate to come with him to the Hamptons for Memorial Day a year ago. She had seemed fairly ambivalent, at first dismissing him with the excuse that she had to look for a new apartment, but coming clean in the end, admitting it was because she was with Demming. His mind reeled at how she had held onto that simple, essentially unremarkable conversation after all this time. Clearly his invitation had meant more to her than he thought.

He turned and looked at her then, _really_ looked at her. She was staring right back reflecting something so completely open and vulnerable in her expression that he couldn't sustain his anger any longer. "Beautiful," he whispered, suddenly captured by the hushed Sirens of her eyes. He finally made himself blink. "The stars, I mean. The stars are beautiful." But they both knew he wasn't referring to the stars.

Kate dared covering his hand with hers, a brisk squeeze and brush of her fingertips across his knuckles causing his Adam's apple to bob in his throat. His eyes flitted down to look at her hand on his, and then sideways catching her eyes doing the same.

"I missed you, Rick." Her voice was untroubled and sincere.

"I know. Me too," he replied with equal sincerity, forgiveness finally winning out and filling his heart. They were sitting so close, their shoulders almost touching, but he didn't want to be brash. Neither was ready to take this any further, no matter what his body was telling him at that moment. So he diverted his eyes, struggling to suppress a grin as it threatened to surface. "But, let's be honest, Beckett. You mostly just missed my _coffees_."

Kate couldn't help but roll her eyes, but she didn't pull away. The man always could sense the right moment to inject a little levity into a conversation. "You're right. I cannot lie. Your coffees were missed most of all," she conceded with as straight a face as she could muster.

Castle shook his head in mock-disgust. "Your affections are so easily had, Kate Beckett. It's a wonder you haven't ended up with some _barista_."

Kate laughed, grinning broadly. She could finally see her Castle peeking out to greet her after all this time. She felt the relief wash over her and for the first time since she'd arrived, she felt certain they were going to be okay.

"And who says I haven't, Mr. Castle?" She tossed the words back at him playfully, eyes dancing with a flirtatious glow uniquely fueled by their banter.

"Well, well! I bet _Josh_ would have something to say about that," Castle retorted. Kate's face fell instantly, her brow furrowing with the sting of his name.

"Oh." He hadn't even considered that they might not be together. Castle waited for her to continue. He had learned not to pry when it came to her relationship with Josh.

"It's okay, Castle. Like I said, I haven't been in the best place for the last few months. He tried, we both did, but turns out what we had wasn't strong enough to get through something like this."

Castle's pulse raced under his skin. He didn't quite know what to do with this huge revelation, although he definitely wasn't about to shed any tears over the fact that Dr. Motorcycle Boy was no longer in the picture. Still, he had to pretend to at least be somewhat neutral in this situation. "Sorry it didn't work out."

Kate narrowed her eyes. "Really?" She saw right through him, grinning skeptically. "Come on Castle. You're not sorry. You never liked him."

Castle opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it, bowing his head and nodding in agreement. "You're right. But, I _am_ sorry that you had to deal with a break-up on top of everything else."

"Thanks." Kate rubbed her palm against the back of his hand still resting beneath hers, realizing neither had made a move to separate their seemingly innocent physical connection. She flexed her fingers slowly, pads skating lightly over the suppleness of his skin, outlining the sturdy weave of muscle over bone. She felt content for the first time in as long as she could remember. It just felt so _right_ to be beside him again.

Castle was close to getting lost in her presence once more, the warmth of her hand starting to travel to parts of his body that he would soon have no control over. Thankfully, a firm knock at the front door saved him, making them both jump a little in their seats.

"Uh, that would be the pizza deliver-er." Castle fumbled over his words, his mind feeling a bit cloudy. "I mean pizza delivery person. Pizza man. You know what I mean. Excuse me a second." Castle reluctantly slipped his hand out from under hers, returning a few moments later to rest the piping hot box on the coffee table.

"Can I interest you in a slice? Maybe a glass of wine?" Castle asked hopefully.

Kate closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. "Basil?"

"Yep. And Italian sausage. It's _the_ _best_ in the City."

"Well then, how can I refuse?" Her eyes sparkled with delight at his invitation.

"Quite simply you can't. Especially since I still might be a little mad at you and you owe me this," he half-joked, throwing a wink in her direction. "White or red?"

Kate hesitated. "Uh, just some water actually. It's pretty late and I have to be up early tomorrow."

Castle pulled down two wine glasses, pouring half a glass of a DeLoach Zinfandel in one and chilled sparkling water with a spritz of lemon juice in the other. He grabbed some plates and napkins, heading back into the living room where Kate and settled on the carpet, leaning back into some pillows she had propped up against the couch.

"So, early morning- you headed back to the precinct? Espo mentioned you were there today." Kate's eyes flashed in his direction, clearly surprised that Esposito had told Castle she was back. "He, uh, he had called to update me about the new developments in your case," he added quickly, not wanting Esposito to get chewed out the next time he crossed paths with her. He made himself busy arranging a pillow for himself on the floor before opening the pizza box.

"No, I'm not going into the precinct." Kate accepted a plate, helping herself to a slice of pizza. She broke off a piece of the perfectly crisped crust, chewing as she contemplated whether she should go ahead and tell him. She knew he wouldn't be happy, and she had just gotten him back into her corner. _What the hell. He won__'__t be any more upset than he had been._

She dusted the crumbs from her fingers and took a sip of the cool water to wet her throat. "I'm not going back to the precinct."

Castle leaned over the coffee table, pulling out a slice for himself. "Huh? Oh, right. Esposito said next week maybe."

Kate shook her head firmly. "No, Castle. You don't understand. I'm not going back at all."

* * *

_Thanks for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and just for reading!_

_Up next: A bit more talking and some case stuff._

_~KB_


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